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Sunday, October 12, 2014

Disclaimer: The deep sea soloing pictures aren't mine. A camera was the least of my concerns that day.

Below, the water looks
black and menacing at this hour in the night. We are sitting at the edge of the
pier, our legs dangling over the sea. They are playing with me, the three of
them. Rob tells me that he’ll push me into the water. And that I’ll be an
expert swimmer by the time the night ends.

I met these fellows in Laos, a week ago. I never thought I’d see any of
them again. The life of a solo traveller is such. But here we were, the four of
us, Rob, Keegan, Jason and me, in an island in the South China Sea, off the
Vietnamese coast.

It is 2 am. We have a big day tomorrow. We finish our beers and walk back from
the pier.

I couldn’t believe it. I have been watching deep sea soloing
videos for over a year now.

For those who do not know, free soloing is a sport where you
climb a vertical mountain, without using any ropes, gear or any sort of
protective gear. All that you use are your limbs, finding crevices for your
handholds and footholds. It involves an incredible high amount of risk as one
mistake and you might fall off a mountain, and lose your life. Deep sea soloing
is, free soloing in an ocean.There are
regions in oceans which have mountains emerging from underwater and you climb
these. If you fall, well you better know how to swim.

The guy there told us that it would cost us 37$. This would
include the cost of the climbing shoes. A boat would take us into the the ocean
to the cliffs, and would return after two hours to fetch us.

Rob and I signed up.

--------- The Affairs of the next morning -------

We were in the boat by 8 am. Besides us, there was another
group of people who were going kayaking. They were in high spirits and there
was a lot of chatter going on in the upper deck. Feeling a bit unsettled, I
took the staircase to the lower deck and sat at the edge of the boat, with my
feet only a metre above the water.

I could not shake off the nervousness that came with the
task in hand. The sky was overcast. It did not look like a good sign.

My head kept going to how
shocked the organizer had seemed the previous day.Alan was a really nice guy, and had smilingly
explained everything. We had all but paid up the money, when I decided to tell
him.

“Err, I need to tell you something. I’m hoping it won’t be a problem”,
I said laughingly. Alan looked at me enquiringly.

“Err I am not a trained climber. I have trekked and hiked, and I love
adventure sports, and am half decent at most. But yeah, I haven’t really every
been trained in rock climbing”, I confessed.

“But mate, that is serious. You can’t expect to be deep sea soloing if
you aren’t good at this” he exclaimed.As I looked on, he continued. “You
realize that when the cliffs come of the water, they are at an obtuse angle
before straightening out.You will have
to climb at a backward incline for a bit, and then climb straight up, and it
will be extremely difficult if you haven’t done this before.”

I told him that he had
nothing to worry. That, if I could not climb properly, I would lose grip and
fall into the ocean. But from a lesser height. That, in a twisted way, was
better than falling off a higher elevation. He just shook his head.

“Umm”, I continued,
“there’s one other thing” I said hesitantly. My friends grinned for they knew
what was coming up. “I am not a swimmer
really. I mean I can float for a bit, but.. yeah not really a swimmer.”
Alan stared back as if he could not really believe what he had just heard.

After a long pause, he
finally said, “You can’t swim? But how in
Jesus Christ’s name do you expect to survive when you fall into the ocean then?”

“Err I
don’t suppose you could give me a life jacket, eh”, I said as casually as I
could. From the snickering, I could make out that my friends were really
enjoying this now.

“You don’t realize the gravity of the situation, do you Nero?” Alan
said, wincingly. “When you fall from that kind of height, the gravitational
force will cause your jacket to shoot up from your body, and fly off your head
and you will go right into the water, to the bottom of the ocean.”

That did not seem like a
good thing to happen.

It took a lot of convincing
from me and Rob to let Alan sign me up. I insisted I would tie the life jacket
tightly, even through my legs so that it would not fly off when I fell.Shaking his head he gave me a form that said
that we, solely, were responsible for our lives and I quickly signed it before
he could change his mind.

“You know Nero,” he shot as we left his shop, “You are probably the stupidest man I have ever met.All the best mate, and I shall see you back
here tomorrow evening.”

All this was twenty four
hours ago. Now, Rob and I were here, in the boat in the middle of the ocean. A
South African, Rob was just twenty one, and was a stuntman by profession. He
joked that he had learnt swimming even before he could walk. He joined me now
at my place on the wooden floor and together we looked at the ocean.

It was an emerald green.Even under the
grey sky, it looked beautiful. They say one must visit Halong Bay before dying,
and here we were in the bay that was so raved about.I wondered how much greener the sea would
look when the sun came out.

Slowly, the first of the
cliffs came out of the ocean. They seemed to come out of nowhere, out of the
mist, and as the boat drew nearer, they towered over us - those faces of
limestone rock. It seemed like one of those shots from the ‘Pirates of the
Caribbean’. An old sailing vessel riding the sea, turquoise water all around,
islands - festooned with trees – in the distance, and gigantic mysterious
cliffs in between which the vessel silently passed.

Such was Halong Bay’s
effect on me that for a brief period of time, I forgot my nervousness, and was
seduced by all that I saw.

The nervousness returned
when we neared another set of cliffs and the captain told us that this was
where we would alight. There must have been a hundred knots in my stomach at
that moment.

The sea was icy cold when
we stepped into it. With my life jacket firmly secured, I swam with as much
purpose as I could behind Rob.

Fear was not an option
anymore. The only way I could do this thing was if I could enjoy it, and not be
scared. I decided to take on Rob at this. I was going to beat him in the
swimming race to the cliffs, and I was also going to climb higher than him.

I obviously reached the cliffs after him.

We looked for a suitable
place where it was relatively easier to start climbing. As the cliff came out
of the water, it almost immediately and slanted backwards. We tried hanging onto
the lower reaches and pull ourselves up, but lost grip and kept falling into
the water. Then, after about a dozen tries we finally managed to hold onto the
rocky surface.It was quite a sight, holding
tightly to the rock, hugging the sharp surface.

Slowly, we climbed high
enough to reach the bottom end of the vertical face off the cliff. The surface
was jagged at most places, and already my palms were bruised and my arm had a
cut. But the maximum pressure was on my shoulders, to hoist my body higher.

Rob grinned at me from
his position, and asked if I was doing okay.

“I’ll meet you at the top”, I answered.
“We’ll see Tinkerbell”, came the reply.

The crevices weren’t very difficult to find. But once we lodged our fingers
firmly in, it was trickier to pull ourselves up. I figured that the longer I
stayed at a point, with my hands hanging from a crevice, the more difficult it
would become.So, I decided to do quick
movements, coordinate my limbs in a manner that there was never too much stress
on one sole limb at any given time. The sharp rocks kept cutting through my
fingers.

I must have climbed some
fifteen twenty feet when I first looked over my head. It was a terrifying
sight, seeing the ocean below me, and having only a rock to hold onto. It
probably would have made sense to let go off the mountain and jump into the
water right then, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to jump then.

I decided not to look
below anymore after that.

It is amazing how aware you
can be of your surroundings in the face of fear. There was a steady wind
blowing around, and as it whistled around me, fear made it almost sound like a
din. The ocean below seemed to be inviting me to its depths.The one time I had looked down, it did not
seem to be the nice pretty green that it was when I was in the boat. Trembling,
I put out my right arm and tried to find a crack in the surface.When I had found one, and locked my fingers
firmly in, I did the same with my left, all the time bending my right knee as
if to shoot up the surface the moment both my arms were firmly locked in their
spots.

I could feel the force
flow through my shoulders as I went up another foot.I could feel the pain in my fingers and the
bump in my knee where I hurt it. But most of all, I could feel my blood surge
in my head. It was a familiar feeling. A feeling of sporting pride.Of resolve. To not quit. To keep going, till
you bloody well couldn’t move an inch. To never give up.Maybe I wasn’t skilled enough to climb this
cliff. But adrenaline and stubborness, I don’t lack in. This cliff I was going
to beat. A grunt erupted from somewhere in my throat as I moved up by another
foot.

And then there was a loud
splash. Rob had fallen. I turned my head, just for a micro second, and it was
enough. My left hand slipped and then my feet did. My right wrist was still
firmly in a crack, but realizing that I would not be able to pull myselfback on to the cliff’s face, I let go.

I was going down.

I am not sure if I screamed,
but my hands instinctively went around my life jacket in order to hold it where
it was.I must have gone down at an
incredibly high speed but to be honest, those three four seconds seemed long
stretched out. Here I was falling down, and there was a cliff in front of me,
but oddly it would just not end. After what seemed like a long time, my feet
touched and then cut through the water, and there was a resounding sound.

It is but sweet irony
that in the moments that I felt I was closest to death, I found myself living
the most in them.

Once up, it took but a
few moments for it to sink in that we had done it. That we had climbed maybe
twenty fivefeet and fallen and were quite alright at the end of it all. And
that’s when all the pent up energy came out flooding, erupting from every pore
of my body. Like a man enraged, I pumped my fist and roared looking at the sky,
and then thrashed my hands in the water as if to punch it. When Rob came up
from behind, and hugged me laughingly, I was still punching, but then
immediately subsided.

We floated around for
about ten minutes before Rob told me that he was going to climb again, and if I
would too.

“I’ll meet you at the
top”, I told him and we set off.

Heh, we never really
reached the top that day. But it felt amazing, that feeling of almost flying.
We climbed a few more times, and fell too.For anyone who is reading, there are few feelings as overwhelming as
jumping off a cliff into an ocean.

But yes, please do it
only if you are a good swimmer. You don’t want Alan to call you the stupidest
person in the world.

Wednesday, October 8, 2014

On the board was written ‘Pltivicka Jezera National Park’.
“Finally”, I murmured to myself and got down from the bus and stretched my
arms.

It was afternoon now.

I had first heard about the Plitvice lakes almost a year
back. The waters were such a pristine mix of blue and green and it felt as if
all the images had been photoshopped. As wrote a reviewer, ‘If you combine the blue waters of the
Andamans with the Kuang Si waterfalls in Laos, and sprinkle Alaskan fauna all
over, you will have – the Plitvice Lakes’

Ever since, the lakes became a part of my bucket list.

The country wasn’t part of my original Europe solo trip
plan. Back then, I had only decided to backpack and couchsurf across Spain and
Italy. But a few days earlier, while standing at Padova rail station, I saw a
poster for a train to Croatia and immediately altered my future plans.

Two days later, I bid a sorry farewell to my rather pretty Couchsurfing
host, and boarded the train to Italy’s north eastern town of Trieste, sandwiched
between the Adriatic Sea and Slovenia. The rail journey is beautiful and you
can see the Adriatic from the large train windows.

From Trieste, I took a bus to Dubrovnik – located in the
very bottom of Croatia. The town has been declared as “Europe’s Best Preserved Heritage City” on quitea few forums and it
made sense to visit the place before I made my final assault on the national
park I so wanted to visit.

Back to the story.

I got down from the bus, and walked over to the bus station
to book my return ticket for the evening. There they told methat the return
buses would only leave next morning. I knew a hotel room would cost me at least
30 Euros here, and being on a tight budget, I was not overjoyed at this sudden
turn of events.

And that’s when Ivo told me that he had a tent and we could
camp in the forest. Immediately visions of Enid Blyton stories and camping came
to mind, and I nodded my head enthusiastically.

I had met Ivo on the bus. A proud Serbian, he was tall and
had big beefy arms. It made sense to never get into a fight with this guy,
because I had a feeling that he could easily pick me up and toss me all the way
to Serbia.

We started walking.

Just like most of Europe, this region too had a regular
campsite, and we reached there soon enough. But Ivo had other plans.

“Aye Nero, there are
too many people here. Let’s go camp in a real forest.”

There are a few things I am never able to say no to.One of those is stupid suggestions.

I nodded my head, and we walked on, proud that we were not
just tourists but the real thing.

After hiking for ten miles, we stopped in a small clearing
in the woods and pitched up our tent.

“Oii Nero, I am
hungry. Let’s go hunt for some food.” Appalled at the thought that he might
expect me to hurt an animal, I began to protest.

“Animals? Who spoke of
animals. We’ll eat berries” said my friend, with a sagely look on his face.

I studied his six foot four frame closely. His legs were as
thick as the tree trunks in the forest. As he bent to pick up a torch, I saw it
concealed almost wholly in his big palm. Some of his fingers were thicker than
my thighs.

And he wanted to eat berries. I wondered if a sack full
would be enough for this Goliath.

It was getting dark now. We strolled out of our tent and
walked into the trees, whistling merry tunes. Oh we were adventurers, men of
the land. We were not those who looked for material pleasures. In our hearts
lived Robinson Crusoe, Long John Silver, George Mallory and Captain Cook. Oh we
were adventurers.

I looked at the stars, pretending as if that was all I
needed to guide me. I had to look back at the ground, when I tripped over a
stone.

And that is when we saw it.

A giant brown bear.

I wondered what Robinson Crusoe would have done in a
situation like this. I wondered if this is how Captain Cook would have felt
when he saw the natives on the New Zealand Coast.

And from the pits of Ivo’s stomach came an eloquent voice, “Uh oh”.

“Maybe he’s a nice,
friendly bear”, I whispered to Ivo. When we proceeded to weakly smile at
the bear, he let out such a snarl that we quickly subsided.

What does one do when one sees a bear ten metres ahead of
them? Weeks later when I read on the topic, the most popular recommendation was
“to lie down on the ground and pretend to
play dead.”

You know, I do not say that this isn’t the right thing to
do. But I would really like to meet a man who on suddenly encountering a bear, actually
thought ‘Alright, let’s lie down casually
and wait for the big fellow to pass by. ‘

They also say that you can, alternatively, try to look bigger
than the bear, scream at it and make intimidating gestures. That might make it
retreat. I looked at myself and wondered how many beers this bear would have to
have to believe that I was bigger than him.

But hey, Ivo was a big man. He could do something. I turned
to my right, excitedly to tell him my plan. Err why is there no Ivo on my
right. I spun to my left, and again no Ivo.

Ivo, my massive Serbian friend, had turned around and was
running for his life. I shot a glance at the bear who looked a little more irked
now to see one of us give him the slip. What would Rambo do now, I wondered.

The next moment, I
was scampering behind Ivo. And since animals love me and can’t do without me,
the bear bounded right after me. Ivo, me, the bear, all running in one line, with
the occasional graceful hop over a pesky bush sitting in the way.

For some reason, Ivo ran right into the tent. For some
reason, and I suspect not very sound ones, I followed right behind.

“Why did you run into
the tent”, I screamed at him. “What if there are other bears in the forest”,
he screamed back. Point.

Meanwhile, the bear had stopped outside the tent and was
probably figuring out which side to enter from. His shadow fell on the tent’s
face, and we stood at the opposite end in pin drop silence. Ivo was, oddly,
holding on to the tent’s zip.

“Hey Nero, if he comes
in, we’ll rush out from this side and zip him inside” whispered Ivo. For
his sake, I hope he only meant it as a nervous joke. Nice that I am, I nodded
and put my palm on the zip too.

As the bear circled
around the tent, snarling and growling, his shadow followed on the tent canvas,
and dutifully, we tiptoed in circles inside as well. A couple of times it came
and pawed the tent and slashed at it, and our hearts were in our mouths. Those
were really tense minutes, and we would not stop staring at the bear’s shadow. Only
three weeks earlier, I had fallen right in front of a bull during the Spanish
bull run, and I have no idea why it did not gore me.Right, one last miracle I need now, I told
myself.

A little later, the bear retreated a few metres and plonked
itself there. We took turns to look at it from a small opening. Then it moved a
bit, and we could see it no longer. It was night now, and in the forest
everything was pitch dark. Even the sound of rustling leaves or the wind, was
enough to create doubt in our heads.We
had no clue if it had given up on us and left or if the fellow was hiding
behind some tree waiting for us to make a move. Either way, we refused to
budge.

Two hours later.

“I want to pee”
Ivo informed me.

“Right, let me tell
the bear that we want a loo break”

“You know Nero, I
think I could fight him bare handed”

“You could barely
stand on your feet when you saw him”

“Want a bear hug?”

“I can’t bear these
wisecracks of yours”

And thus continued two men, cracking beary bad jokes,
through the night lying in a tent in a Croatian forest. Oh they were adventurers,
men of heart. In their hearts lived Robinson Crusoe, Long John Silver, George
Mallory and Captain Cook.

Months later, I read that the forests around Plitive were home to bears, wolves, nineteen varieties of snakes besides other small animals. Not the best idea to camp in unknown forests, I guess. As for the story of the lakes, it is but another one.

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Nero speaketh

Neeraj Narayanan has a Masters in Advertising & Media Communication, has had experience as a Communication Consultant to the Government of Gujarat, and as a Brand man in the IT giant firm - Cognizant.
He has also been bitten by jellyfish in the Andaman Sea, been chased by bulls in Spain and ignored by a condescending lion in Gir.
On weekends, he takes people out on Delhi tours and Heritage walks, and you could go with him if you like deluded, outrageous men and a history lesson on Delhi's finest.